


There is no you.

by heenimlee



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heenimlee/pseuds/heenimlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Taeyong really only cares about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Jaehyun has seen him before, the light haired stranger standing at the far end of the club. He’s with his friends, talking and laughing brightly, beer in one hand, the other gesturing animatedly. He watches the way he moves, the way the flashing neon lights illuminate the sharp angles of his face, the way his hair seems a different color every time the lights flash. Ridiculously handsome, Jaehyun thinks. He’s staring but he can’t seem to help himself.

The stranger looks in his direction, and Jaehyun thinks that for a fraction of a second he looked right at him, and he thinks perhaps he’s been caught staring. He doesn’t know for sure, because the very next moment, the man turns back to his friends and seems immersed in the conversation like nothing happened.

Jaehyun looks away before he comes off as a creep, engaging himself in a conversation with Ten despite the fact that Ten is buzzed beyond reason, and he’s slurring half his sentences and the other half are in Thai. It’s amusing, and any other day Jaehyun would find it cute, play along, dance with him all night with their bodies pressed close and indulge his drunken flirtation, and then send him home without laying a finger on him. Drunken nights with Ten were always fun. But tonight, he’s distracted, and he really can’t help the way he scans the crowd every now and then, just for a glimpse of that face.

So a few minutes later, when out of the corner of his eye, he sees the back door opening and a handsome, lean, light haired stranger walking out, Jaehyun can’t help but follow.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he tells Ten. Ten looks at him quizzically, a protest forming on his lips, but Jaehyun is already disappearing into the crowd.

He hesitates in front of the door for a second, embarrassed of himself, but he convinces himself that he’s just going outside for a smoke. He pushes the door open and steps out into the alleyway. It’s relatively quiet here, but the bass still echoes in the narrow alley. The night air is cold, and Jaehyun shivers a little, his eyes on the silhouette in front of him.

He hears the clicking of a lighter, a few muttered expletives, and then a few more clicks. The stranger looks up at him when Jaehyun steps out of the shadows.

“Hey, do you have a light?” he says, and Jaehyun needs a second to process it, because up close he’s beyond handsome. Up close, Jaehyun can see how pretty his eyes are, how soft his lips look. He can see the real color of his hair, a snowy, silvery white, and it’s fucking beautiful.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out. He steps into the other’s space, and the other leans in, a cigarette in his mouth. Jaehyun can smell his cologne, can see how long his eyelashes are. The lighter clicks, and the cigarette is lit. The stranger is pulling back now, taking a drag, and then exhaling. The smoke leaves his lips and Jaehyun watches it swirl around him.

“Thanks,” the stranger says, and Jaehyun smiles, busying himself with lighting his own cig, because he doesn’t want to be the kind of loser who just stands there and stares.

“What’s your name?”

What _is_ his name?

“Jaehyun. Yours?”

“Taeyong.”

“ _Taeyong,”_ Jaehyun repeats, just to see what it would feel like to say his name, and then he feels like an idiot. Taeyong is smiling now, and there’s something ridiculously familiar about that smile.

“I feel like we’ve met before,” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong raises an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun realizes what he must sound like, and he laughs. “No, really, I feel like I’ve seen you before. But maybe I’m wrong. It’s not like you’re easily forgettable.”

“I’m attractive, I know.”

“Cocky,” Jaehyun says, amused.

“You think so too. Don’t deny it, I saw you staring.”

Jaehyun smiles sheepishly, distracting himself with his cigarette. “Guilty as charged,” he mumbles.

Taeyong looks at him for a long moment, and Jaehyun catches himself thinking the other’s mouth looks insanely fuckable. It must have shown on his face, how much he wants Taeyong, because something in Taeyong’s eyes changes. He feels tension building, and he thinks he sees the other’s gaze drop to his lips for the briefest moment. Jaehyun steps closer, flicking his cigarette away. He sees the anticipation in Taeyong’s eyes, the way he seems to hold his breath.

“How old are you?” Taeyong asks.

“Nineteen.”

Taeyong drops his gaze and steps back, his attention returning to his cigarette. “Shit,” he says, disappointed. “You’re too young.”

Jaehyun moves forward again, reaches out and grips Taeyong’s wrist, and Taeyong lets him. He pulls him closer, and his free hand settles on his hip. Taeyong doesn’t stop him. “Too young for what?” he teases. He knows what Taeyong means, and it makes his stomach flip, thinking about what Taeyong wanted to do to him in the first place. But he wants to hear him say it.

Taeyong doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t push Jaehyun away. There’s a teasing smile on his face. He leans in and pecks Jaehyun on the lips, quick, chaste. “Maybe in a couple of years, kid,” he says dismissively.

Jaehyun wants to think about the softness of those lips, but he can’t get past that dismissal. He knows he’s attractive, he knows he’s charming, and everyone he has ever wanted has wanted him back. He’s never had to work for it before. This is new, he thinks, and he isn’t going to be treated like a child. He pulls Taeyong closer, his ego wounded. Taeyong laughs.

“I’m six years older than you.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, just leans in even closer, feels Taeyong’s breath on lips.

“So?” he says softly, and then he waits, as if daring the other to push him away. Taeyong doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t push him away, but his lips part just slightly. Almost imperceptible, but Jaehyun sees it, and it’s the confirmation he needs.

He closes the distance between them, and the kiss is open-mouthed and unashamed. He feels a rush like he’s never felt before when those soft, warm lips move with his. He can sense Taeyong’s hesitation, but Jaehyun is determined to make him moan. He coaxes him, slowly, patiently, teases him with a flick of his tongue, promising pleasure, but only if Taeyong asks for it. He waits, keeping the kiss shallow and lazy, until he feels the other deepening it, until he feels that hot tongue against his own.

He smiles against Taeyong’s mouth. He’s hooked now, he thinks.

He backs Taeyong up against the dirty wall, his hands gripping his hips, and he kisses him hard, swallowing the soft sound the other makes in surprise. He presses his hips to Taeyong’s, grinding down on him, and his tongue is sliding into Taeyong’s mouth, tasting alcohol and smoke.

Taeyong moans, and it’s almost lost in the heavy bass that’s echoing in the alleyway. Jaehyun hears it, and he wants stop and tease Taeyong, so much for calling him a kid. He wants to say he can make him scream, too, but he can’t seem to pull away from Taeyong’s lips, not even for a second. Not when Taeyong’s cigarette slips from his fingers, still lit, and his arms come up to pull Jaehyun impossibly close. Not when Jaehyun knows, somehow, that this would be the best he’s ever had.

Taeyong breaks the kiss, but he can’t seem to open his eyes just yet.

“You were saying?” Jaehyun asks, and Taeyong’s eyes open slowly.

“Where do you live?” Taeyong says breathlessly.

“Not far,” Jaehyun replies.

He feels Taeyong’s fingers closing around his wrist, feels a tug, and he’s being led out of the alley and onto the main street. Jaehyun smiles, triumphant.

 

They’re in Taeyong’s car, and it’s quiet. Jaehyun catches himself stealing glances at the man’s profile, and if the little smile playing on the corner of Taeyong’s lips is anything to go by, he knows he’s being thoroughly checked out. They’re quiet in the elevator in Jaehyun’s building. They’re quiet in the hallway.

The minute they’re inside the apartment and the door is shut behind them, Taeyong is on him. They barely make it to the bedroom, and Jaehyun is thankful his roommate isn’t home yet.

 

Jaehyun sits in a chair by the desk in his room. He can’t take his eyes off of Taeyong. The lights are off, only the streetlight filtering weakly through his window, lending everything a warm glow. A cigarette dangles loosely from his lips, his lighter clicks, and for a second his face is lit up in the dark. He takes a drag, and then another, and at least now his hands have stopped trembling. His lips tug up in a dazed smile. He can’t believe what’s happening.

Taeyong is on his bed, naked, his fingers buried inside himself, fucking himself open. Jaehyun feels his body overheating, getting harder with every groan and every broken gasp that falls from Taeyong’s lips.

Taeyong, he thinks, is too fucking much. It’s a beautiful sight, and Jaehyun thinks he could come just watching him. He has never felt his body reacting like this, never felt himself losing control. He’s had a few girls before, two guys too. But none of them made him feel like this, this helplessly aroused, hands trembling, butterflies in the stomach bullshit. He needs to calm the fuck down, he thinks, or he’ll lose himself here. He takes another drag, but Taeyong is just _too much._

Taeyong’s back arches and his head tips back, and he moans low in his throat.

Jaehyun breaks.

He stubs his cigarette, and walks to the bed, movements slow, deliberate, determined not to show Taeyong how weak he was making him. He unbuttons his jeans, pulls them off, joins Taeyong in bed. He catches his lips in a deep, deep kiss, and when he pulls away, he finds himself breathless. Taeyong is already turning over, but Jaehyun’s hands find his shoulders, stopping him, pushing him onto his back. He wants to see Taeyong’s face when he enters him.

He doesn’t know how he rolls the condom on, he’s too fucking turned on to think. He parts Taeyong’s legs, and he presses his cock to his entrance. His eyes are on Taeyong’s face, memorizing those sharp angles, those beautiful planes. He learns how Taeyong’s eyes flutter closed and his lips part in a silent moan when he pushes in.

Jaehyun groans, his head falling forward. Taeyong is tight around him, warm and welcoming. He needs to stop, partly for Taeyong’s sake, mostly for his own.

He feels Taeyong’s hands squeezing his, and he looks up.

“You okay, kid?” Taeyong says. There’s that teasing smile at the corner of Taeyong’s lips again.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jaehyun says. His voice is choked and his ego is shattering. “You just… feel so good.”

Taeyong laughs, and Jaehyun can’t decide if it’s pretty or it’s just really fucking sexy. He leans down into Taeyong and kisses him again, and he feels Taeyong’s hips rolling up against his. Really, really sexy, he decides.

He gathers himself, pulls his hips back, thrusts back in, gives Taeyong what he wants. He sets a pace, slow and hard, and Taeyong groans, his hips rolling to meet Jaehyun’s thrusts. Jaehyun thrusts faster, faster and Taeyong is breathing hard, his eyes closed tight. Jaehyun is having trouble keeping himself together. This is fucking amazing, he thinks. This man is fucking amazing.

Taeyong’s erection lies heavy and thick against his abdomen, and Jaehyun reaches for it, stroking it till it’s bordering on painful, but Taeyong fucking loves it. He pulls the younger down for a rough kiss, hooking one leg over Jaehyun’s hip.

This changes something, because Taeyong chokes out a moan and tightens around him. Jaehyun smiles, he knows he’s found the spot. He wants to fuck Taeyong into oblivion, but he sort of also wants Taeyong to beg for it, to massage his bruised ego. He changes the pace abruptly, thrusts shallowly, his hand stilling on Taeyong’s member. Taeyong’s eyes snap open and he’s glaring at him, but Jaehyun just laughs.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Fuck you,” Taeyong says.

“Be nice.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

Taeyong is still glaring but Jaehyun isn’t swayed. He runs a finger softly over Taeyong’s arousal, and he sees how the other fights back a shudder.

“Just tell me what you want,” he says, and his fingers are curling around Taeyong’s member, squeezing. “Ask nicely.”

Taeyong breaks, _whimpers_. He pulls Jaehyun down by the neck and whispers hotly in his ear. “I want you to fuck me hard, I want it to _hurt._  I want you so bad,” he says. “Make me scream.”

His hot tongue is on the shell of Jaehyun’s ear and Jaehyun groans. “ _Please,_ ” Taeyong adds, and that’s all Jaehyun needs. He rolls his hips into Taeyong, hard, fast, punishing, rewarding.

Taeyong moans breathlessly, his hand finding himself, moving in time with Jaehyun’s hips. Jaehyun feels him tightening up around him, watches the way his breath comes in sharp gasps, the way his lips part and a shudder runs through his body. Jaehyun can’t keep this up, he’s going to drown. He can feel himself coiling tighter and tighter, his mind fading, every sense filled with Taeyong.

Taeyong comes apart, a silent scream on his lips, too far gone to manage any real sound, and Jaehyun fucks him through his orgasm, the tightness overwhelming, almost painful, but Jaehyun can’t get enough of Taeyong. He’s almost pushed over the edge when Taeyong looks up at him, tonguing the corner of his mouth before he breathes “Come all over me.”

Jaehyun does as he’s told, pulling out, leaning forward, fumbling to get the condom off and spilling hotly onto Taeyong’s abdomen. He feels like his soul has left his body. He’s drained, and he wants to collapse in Taeyong’s arms, but he doesn’t think Taeyong would like that, so he rolls onto his back instead. A full minute passes with them staring at the ceiling in silence before they catch their breath.

Jaehyun pushes himself out of bed and disappears into the bathroom. He comes back in a few moments with tissue in his hand, and he begins to wipe Taeyong clean.

“I can do it,” Taeyong mumbles weakly, reaching for the tissue.

“I know,” Jaehyun replies, gently pushing his hands away and continuing to clean him up.

Taeyong is too tired to argue.

Jaehyun cleans up the mess they created and climbs into bed next to Taeyong. He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but the last thing he remembers is the softness of Taeyong’s lips against his own, and a muted whisper. “That was fucking amazing.”

When Jaehyun wakes up the next morning, Taeyong is gone. No note, no number, nothing left behind. There’s no trace of his having been in that room, except for the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to Jaehyun’s skin.

Jaehyun is disappointed.

 

Taeyong finds himself thinking of Jaehyun, of the first time he saw him at that club and noted how insanely attractive he was. He finds himself thinking of his pale, pale skin, and his soft dimpled smile, black hair shaved down on one side. He finds himself remembering what it felt like to have that thick cock inside him, and he’s getting hard just thinking of it. He wonders what it would feel like to be inside Jaehyun’s body. He needs more, more, more, and that irritates him.

He isn’t usually like this. One man for one night, and that’s it. He never feels the need to go back for more. But it’s been a month, and he’s still thinking about Jaehyun. This one’s a little different, he thinks. Maybe it’s because he’s young, some sort of innocence in him that Taeyong finds charming, wants desperately to toy with. He doesn’t know what it is.

He’s at a club again, the music pounding in his ears, and he’s being pressed up against a wall, a stranger’s mouth working wetly on his neck. He wants to enjoy this, but his eyes close and Jaehyun’s face flickers in his mind. He pushes the thought away, throwing himself into this moment, but he can’t seem to focus, his mind drifting, remembering what Jaehyun’s lips felt like on his skin. His eyes snap open. How inconvenient.

He finds himself standing in front of Jaehyun’s apartment, ringing the doorbell. He hears shuffling inside, footsteps, he considers turning around and leaving before the door opens. But then the door is open, and Jaehyun is standing there, tall and raven haired and pale skinned and sexy, black-framed glasses perched on his nose. He has a pen and a sheaf of papers in one hand, and the other is still gripping the doorknob. He looks dumbstruck.

“Are you busy? I can… ” Taeyong says, half turning, gesturing to the stairs.

“I’m not busy,” Jaehyun says. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to fuck.”

Jaehyun stares at him for a second, and then he laughs incredulously.

“Look, I’m not crazy, I promise,” Taeyong says. “I’m just really horny.”

“Shit, you’re serious,” Jaehyun says, amazed. He looks at Taeyong for a long while, contemplating something, and then something gives. Something like a smirk spreads across his face. “Ask again. Nicely.”

“Fuck you.”

“Suit yourself,” Jaehyun says, shrugging. He’s retreating, and he’s about to close the door when Taeyong gives in and presses his palm against the wood, keeping it open.

“Okay, alright,” Taeyong says, and he takes a deep breath and looks at his feet. How embarrassing. “Will you have sex with me,” he says, and then looks up at Jaehyun. _“Please?”_

Jaehyun grins, feels his self-restraint slipping, and he pulls Taeyong in by the waist, shutting the door. Taeyong is smiling now, his hands are cupping Jaehyun’s face, and their mouths meet in a heated kiss. Taeyong wants to taste Jaehyun, to deepen the kiss, but those irritating fucking glasses are in the way. He breaks the kiss, just long enough to pull Jaehyun’s glasses off, to pull the papers and pen from his hands and let them all fall to the floor.

Jaehyun doesn’t even have time to protest because Taeyong’s mouth has found his again, and it makes his breath stop and his heart stop and his stomach tie itself in knots.

That night, Jaehyun learns how fucking sexy Taeyong looks with a cock in his mouth, the weight of Taeyong’s body when he rides Jaehyun, the elegant curve of his neck when his head tips back and he comes. He learns that Taeyong likes it when he comes inside him. 


	2. Two

They’ve been doing this for a while now, using each other for sex. Jaehyun calls him after long days, on frustrated nights spent at the drawing board with his pencil scratching aimlessly on innumerable sheets of paper. Taeyong calls Jaehyun after shitty days at work, on nights spent fighting back loneliness.

They always meet at Jaehyun’s apartment, and they spend a couple of hours indulging in each other, a hedonistic whirlwind, and then Taeyong leaves. He never stays the night, and Jaehyun never asks him to. It’s like an unspoken agreement.

Jaehyun has never even been to Taeyong’s place, and really, it’s a little fucked up how little he actually knows about Taeyong. His name and his phone number, that he’s a junior editor at a publishing house and hates sweet things. That’s all.

For Jaehyun, ever the artist, it’s a little bit about the aesthetics of it. He doesn’t think he’s ever had anyone as beautiful as Taeyong in his bed. When they fuck, it’s two beautiful bodies moving against each other, and to him, fucking Taeyong feels like art. It turns him on in a way nothing ever has. It’s a little bit about the ego trip it gives him, when someone that pretty, that much older, keeps coming back to him. It’s a little bit about the tiny crush he has on Taeyong, but he’ll never admit that.

For Taeyong, it’s all about the sex. Nobody can fuck him like Jaehyun can. He usually likes to bottom as much as he likes to top, but with Jaehyun, he just wants to submit to the pleasure, Jaehyun gives it so well. And he keeps coming back for more, because Jaehyun is innocent. Innocent, not manipulative, not guarded. Simple, honest. Happy or not, horny or not. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and it draws Taeyong in. It doesn’t help that he looks like sex, all the time.

 

Jaehyun is in class when Taeyong texts him: Where are you? I want your cock in my mouth.

I’m in class, I’ll see you tonight, he replies, his face hot.

A minute passes, and then his screen lights up again: What if I came over to the university instead?

Jaehyun shifts in his seat, one hand covering his flushed face. He quickly types out a reply. Class ends in 20 minutes, he says.

And then he waits. The minute class ends, he’s jumping out of his seat, dialing Taeyong’s number on his phone, all but running out of the room.

 

Taeyong is pressed up against him, their mouths joined in a messy kiss. They’re locked in a cubicle in one of the toilets, and it’s a little gross, Jaehyun won’t lie, but Taeyong’s tongue is in his mouth and his hand is in his pants and Jaehyun doesn’t care where they are, it’s still fucking hot. There's not enough room for a blowjob, so they make do with hands and sloppy kisses.

Jaehyun wants Taeyong to feel what he’s feeling, and he fumbles with the button on his pants, taking Taeyong in his hand, stroking roughly. Taeyong pants against Jaehyun’s neck, insanely aroused, coming apart in Jaehyun's hands, knees weak. They fall apart quickly, tongues tangling, moaning into each other’s mouths. Their bodies succumb to pleasure, and Jaehyun sags against the door, and Taeyong falls against his chest. The younger's arm wraps around his waist to keep him standing.

When they come down from their highs, Jaehyun pecks Taeyong lightly on the nose.

"That was fun," he says and Taeyong grins.

"Agreed." 

They clean themselves up, fix their appearances, and go their separate ways.

 

They’re lying in Jaehyun’s bed. The only reason Taeyong is still there, is that he rode Jaehyun too hard and too long, until he had tears in his eyes, and now his legs are jelly and he can barely stand, let alone drive back. He’s resting, waiting till he’s okay to leave. Jaehyun is staring at the ceiling, smoking a cigarette, and he decides to ask. “Tell me about yourself,” he says, and he feels like it’s long overdue.

Taeyong half laughs-half scoffs. “I’m very sexy, and very, very good in bed. That’s really all you need to know.”

Jaehyun turns his head towards Taeyong. “I’m not kidding,” he says.

“Jaehyun, we’re not lovers,” Taeyong says warily.

“I know,” he replies. “It just feels weird that you’re here so often and I know almost nothing about you.”

He reaches out with his free hand, strokes Taeyong’s cheek. “You can still fuck anyone you want. And you can still leave right after sex. I’m not going to call you and talk about my feelings. I just want to know you a little better.”

Taeyong sighs. “Okay,” he says. “What do you want to know?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Seoul.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“One. Older sister.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s very nice. Warm.”

Taeyong doesn’t know when he rolled on his side, to face Jaehyun.

“Pets?”

“A dog. Ruby.”

“What’s she like?”

“Prettiest girl I know.”

Jaehyun laughs, turns his body to face Taeyong.

“Did you always want to go into publishing?”

“Oh, the questions get deeper.”

“Just answer.”

“Uhhh, no,” he says. He hesitates, reaches out to take the cigarette from Jaehyun’s hands. He takes a drag and exhales slowly. “I wanted to be a writer.”

“Do you still write?”

“I try to. But I’m not all that good. Hence the publishing job.”

“How do you know you’re not good?”

“Okay, fuck off. I’ve been talking long enough. Your turn,” he says with a laugh, passing the cigarette back to Jaehyun. Jaehyun laughs again, curious, but he knows he’s already pushing the envelope, so he backs off.  

“I grew up mostly in Seoul. Four years in America when I was still a kid. I have no siblings, but I basically grew up with my cousins, no pets… wait does a goldfish count?” he says, and Taeyong chuckles. “Hey don’t laugh, fish are pets too okay? His name was Benicio del Toro the second. It was really sad, he died too soon. It was very traumatizing for the family. Hey, hey I’m not kidding here,” he says when Taeyong bursts into laughter. He looks so warm, with his guard down, it brings a smile to Jaehyun’s face, and he reaches out to peck Taeyong’s lips. He pulls away. “Okay, where was I?” he says.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, kid?” Taeyong teases, and Jaehyun flicks him lightly on the forehead.

“Stop calling me a kid.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me. Where do you want your life to go?”

Jaehyun pauses. “Alright, don’t laugh,” he says. “I want to be an illustrator. For children’s books. You know, like Quentin Blake. I always felt like there’s a sort of magic in drawing for children.”

Taeyong looks at him for a long while. He doesn’t know if he should say it. “I think you’d be very good at it,” he says. Because Jaehyun is innocent. Simple. Honest. Wears his heart on his sleeve.

“You’re not just saying that, right?” Jaehyun says softly.

Taeyong shakes his head, smiles. “Thank you,” Jaehyun says, smiling brightly, and he looks like sunshine. Taeyong doesn’t know where that sexy, sultry stranger from the club went.

Suddenly, Taeyong is acutely aware of how close they are. Legs tangled, Jaehyun’s arm around his waist, faces close. He doesn’t know when that happened. He slams the brakes.

“I should go,” he says.

Jaehyun just nods in understanding.

 

It happens again the next time they meet. Crazy, rough, passionate sex, and then they lie in bed, spent, talking. Who’s your favorite author? Why don’t you write anymore? And then again. Show me something you drew. And then again, Show me something you wrote.

“I can’t,” Taeyong says. “I mean I manage isolated pieces of writing, a paragraph I’m satisfied with, but there’s nothing before it, and nothing after it. It’s just a discrete unit, but it’s supposed to be a part of a whole. And I can never find the whole.”

“Why?” Jaehyun asks.

“I don’t know,” he says.

 

One night, when Jaehyun is a little too excitable, they go one round, and they rest for half an hour, and then he’s pulling Taeyong in for another. Taeyong groans.

“Listen, sex makes me really hungry. So if you want to go again, you’d better get me some food first,” Taeyong warns.

Jaehyun chuckles and pulls Taeyong up and out of bed. “Fine,” he says. “Put some clothes on.”

They put on boxers and t shirts and tip toe into the kitchen, careful not to wake Doyoung, Jaehyun’s flat  mate. Taeyong sits on the counter while Jaehyun rummages in the fridge.

“Okay, substantial food wise, we have squat. But,” he says dramatically. “We have ice cream. It’s a new flavor, it’s called post-coital satisfaction.”

Taeyong gasps exaggeratedly. “Oh shit,” he says. “That’s my favorite kind.”

Jaehyun smiles and hands Taeyong a spoon and a whole tub of ice cream, and Taeyong begins to eat, and Jaehyun steals a few bites every now and then.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things?”

“I don’t. I’m just really hungry.”

“Should I make you some coffee to wash it down? Let me guess, black no sugar?”

“I don’t know, fetus boy. I’m very particular about my coffee. I don’t think you can handle it.”

“Teach me, then.”

“You don’t happen to have a thermometer, do you?”

“What the fuck, no,” Jaehyun says incredulously, and Taeyong tuts.

“You’re not ready.”

They forget all about round two.

 

The next morning, Jaehyun joins Doyoung for breakfast, mumbling a groggy “Morning,” and being greeted in return.

“Late night?” Doyoung asks cheekily.

Jaehyun smiles and nods.

“So are you guys like dating now?”

“No, why?”

“Oh,” Doyoung says, confused. “I thought… I saw you two in the kitchen last night. It just didn’t look like _just sex.”_

“It’s just sex,” Jaehyun says. “Taeyong doesn’t want anything more.”

“Oh? And what do you want?”

“I don’t… don’t actually know.”

 

Jaehyun is lying prone in his bed, naked from the waist down, a pillow tucked under his abdomen. He’s panting into the sheets, his face flushed, embarrassed, aroused. He’s too aware of Taeyong’s hands on his body, slipping under his shirt, running over the planes of his back, up once and then down, down. Those hands are on his ass now, squeezing, stroking softly, and Jaehyun feels himself getting hard.

He feels soft lips trailing softer kisses down his lower back, teeth sinking in to the smooth, pale skin. His legs are being pushed a little further apart, and then those lips are on his inner thigh and Jaehyun gasps at the tickle of pleasure it brings.

He feels Taeyong’s hands opening him up, and he knows his entrance is exposed, on display, and he flushes. Taeyong’s lips press softly against his entrance, and Jaehyun squirms. Taeyong grips his hips hard, one bruising hold, and pins him down.

Jaehyun thinks he can’t handle that, but that thought is rendered obsolete when he feels Taeyong’s tongue, hot, wet, licking at his entrance and Jaehyun’s mind ceases to function. Taeyong sucks on him, his tongue pushes in just a little and Jaehyun moans low in his throat. It’s fucking dirty, and it’s sexy, and he feels an aching pleasure in his abdomen with every flick of Taeyong’s tongue.

Only when Taeyong’s mouth and hands retreat does Jaehyun dare to look over his shoulder. Taeyong is coating his fingers with lube. Jaehyun’s breath hitches.

He has a secret. He’s been intimate with people before, but he’s always been the one to top. He’s never been penetrated before, but Taeyong doesn’t know that. Jaehyun doesn’t want to tell him. He doesn’t want to change their dynamic. He wants this to happen, because it’s Taeyong, because he’s hard just thinking about Taeyong fucking him.

One finger pushes against his rim, and then slowly pushes into him, and Jaehyun feels fucking weird. His muscles clench. It’s okay, he thinks. Because it’s Taeyong.

Then another finger is sliding in, but he’s too tight, and Taeyong kisses his lower back. “Relax,” he says.

Jaehyun tries his best, pushing himself to allow Taeyong into his body, and the finger slides in.

Taeyong’s fingers begin to explore, and Jaehyun clenches his teeth, too weirded out. But then something inside him is touched and Jaehyun shudders and groans. “Do that again,” he mumbles into the sheets. Taeyong obliges, massaging that spot in between thrusts, and then then there’s another finger pushing, pushing, and Jaehyun doesn’t think he can take it.

The fingers disappear, and Jaehyun isn’t brave enough to look over his shoulder. He knows Taeyong is kneeling behind him, coating himself in lubricant. “Fuck,” he breathes out when he feels the head of Taeyong’s cock pushing against him, breaching him, this was too much to handle. He was too thick, and his slender fingers hadn’t come close.

“Fuck, Jaehyun, you’re so tight,” Taeyong chokes out.

Jaehyun can barely comprehend what he’s saying. Taeyong gives him a second to adjust to him, alternating between pressing feathery kisses to Jaehyun’s shoulders and sucking on the side of his neck.

“Can I move?” he says.

Jaehyun nods hesitantly.

Taeyong’s hips are pulling back, thrusting in languidly. It feels too fucking alien, and Jaehyun is trying to relax but his muscles are clenching. Taeyong stops, covers Jaehyun’s back with his chest.

“You’re not relaxing,” he whispers into Jaehyun’s hair.

“Sorry,” Jaehyun says, forcing his muscles to loosen up, and he expects Taeyong to start fucking him again, but Taeyong is hesitating, his weight disappearing from Jaehyun’s back.

“Jaehyun,” he says. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to do. He shakes his head, face still buried in the sheets. Best not to lie. Taeyong exhales slowly. His hands run soothingly over Jaehyun’s body. “Should I stop?”

“No,” Jaehyun says desperately.  “Keep going.”

Taeyong hesitates briefly, but then Jaehyun feels a kiss on the nape of his neck, and his hips are rolling languidly, gently into Jaehyun’s body. Jaehyun is panting now, his fingers curling into the sheets. He’s getting used to this, getting harder. He moves his hips back, meeting Taeyong’s thrusts, fucking himself on his cock.

This is strange, because sex with Taeyong is always rough, and Jaehyun likes it like that. But this, this feels gentle, a low burning flame. He likes this too, there are moments for vanilla sex and there are moments for fucking hard. But Jaehyun wonders if Taeyong is enjoying himself.

“Fuck me harder,” he says. “I won’t break.”

Taeyong groans, his hands returning to Jaehyun’s hips, pulling them up just a little. Jaehyun feels the next thrust till the tips of his toes. He’s brushing past his spot, fucking him hard, and Jaehyun’s head spins. Taeyong is breathing hard, Jaehyun’s tight heat feels fucking incredible.

“Are you okay?” he manages to whisper. Jaehyun nods.

Taeyong’s hand caresses Jaehyun’s ass, and then it lifts, and comes down hard on that soft flesh. It stings, and Jaehyun’s body jolts with the unexpected slap, but it’s so fucking hot and he moans. His pale skin reddens, Taeyong thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, his hand returning to running softly over the skin. It’s as if he’s waiting for some sort of indication that Jaehyun is okay with it.

“Harder,” Jaehyun says, and Taeyong almost dies.

His hand is lifting again, hips still fucking Jaehyun into the mattress, and he slaps his ass even harder. The sound Jaehyun makes is just too much for him to handle, and his hand slips into Jaehyun hair. He pulls gently, and Jaehyun gets the hint. He lifts his head up, turns to look at Taeyong, and his breath stops.

Taeyong is so beautiful, he thinks. So, so, beautiful. Taeyong lowers himself, catches Jaehyun’s lips in a gentle kiss. The position is too awkward to kiss for long, but it leaves Jaehyun’s heart racing. As if Taeyong wasn’t killing him already. Taeyong releases his lips, and Jaehyun falls back down, feeling like he’s on the edge of his orgasm.

Taeyong hand reaches down, wraps around Jaehyun’s member with a delicious pressure. He moves in time with his thrusts, and Jaehyun is writhing, losing himself. He needs it faster, but he knows Taeyong is on the edge too, and he can’t give him much more, so he covers Taeyong’s hand with his own, squeezes, moves their hands together in one tight grip over himself, faster and faster and then he comes undone.

With a broken _Taeyong_ falling from his lips, and his toes curling, breath catching in his throat, he spills into both their hands. He’s trembling, clenching around Taeyong, and Taeyong is panting into his ear, thrusting erratically into Jaehyun’s overstimulated body. He feels his orgasm drawing closer and closer, and then it washes over him with shocking intensity. He comes with a drawn out moan, his fingers tangling with Jaehyun’s, and he almost blacks out for a second, collapsing onto Jaehyun’s back.

He takes a moment to gather his fragmented mind, and then he pulls out, presses a gentle kiss to the nape of Jaehyun’s neck and falls into bed next to him. Jaehyun turns his head to face him, too tired to move, and it takes Taeyong’s breath away.

He reaches for Jaehyun helplessly, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and then letting his thumb stroke his cheek. He leans in, kisses him tenderly, sensually, and Jaehyun smiles against his lips.

“Was it okay? Are you okay?” he says softly.

Jaehyun laughs, eyelids falling closed. “That was incredible,” he replies.

Jaehyun’s eyes are closed, and Taeyong allows himself one smile before he pushes himself out of bed. He cleans them both up, and he learns just how pliant sleepy Jaehyun is. He dresses quietly, and Jaehyun has fallen asleep by the time he’s done. Taeyong stands by the bed, looking at him, wondering at his beauty, just for a moment. He’s leaning down before he can help himself pressing his lips to his cheek, whispering a good night into his skin.

 

Taeyong sits in his car, hands on the steering wheel, but he can’t move. He left Jaehyun’s apartment a good twenty minutes ago, but he just can’t seem to drive away.

What the hell was that, he thinks. What the hell is happening?

He catches himself remembering the trust in Jaehyun’s voice when he told him not to stop. He trusted him, and it made him feel worthy. Taeyong felt responsible for Jaehyun, a sense of belonging, like he was special, and it made him so happy. God, he thinks. I was happy.

He remembers everything, how he felt like kissing Jaehyun with tenderness and care, like a lover would, and how he couldn’t fight it. He remembers how he had to struggle to get himself out of bed, away from that warmth and those arms and that happy, bubbling laugh, and his crazy ideas and that fucking sexy, muscled body.

Even now, a part of him wants to go back upstairs and crawl into his bed, fall asleep there, wake up some time in the early hours and go another round maybe, or just kiss him till they fall asleep, or even just talk till they can’t talk anymore.

Another part of him is fucking terrified. Protect yourself, it screams. Get out before you get hurt. Run.

And Taeyong drives away. 


	3. Three

When Jaehyun calls him at 10 o clock on a Thursday night, Taeyong is still at work.

“Come over,” he says. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

His voice sends a shiver down his spine. He’s a little worried about going back to Jaehyun, after his mini meltdown in the car that night. But he has calmed down a bit since that little bitch moment, and Taeyong realizes that he’s still intensely aroused by the younger man. And he’s frustrated, because he’s been working all day, because his boss is an asshole, because fuck, what is he even doing here. A good fuck would help, he thinks.

“I’ll see you at eleven?” he says.

“Okay. Hurry up, I’m waiting.”

Taeyong says goodbye and hangs up. There’s nothing to worry about, he thinks. He’ll try again, lay down some concrete boundaries. He’s the presiding authority on casual relationships, after all. He can handle this, he thinks.

Jaehyun greets Taeyong at the door, pulling him in, and Taeyong’s arms are thrown over his neck and they’re kissing sensually before he even knows what’s happening. Jaehyun breaks the kiss.

“Did you just get off work?” he says, frowning at his formal button down and trousers (finding it fucking sexy).

“Yeah, long day,” Taeyong mumbles, mouthing at Jaehyun’s neck. “I feel a little gross, actually. Let me just shower real quick?”

Jaehyun nods, takes his hand, leads him into the bathroom. Jaehyun runs the water, adjusts it to the right temperature, and Taeyong begins undressing. Jaehyun doesn’t leave.

“Are you joining me?” Taeyong says, unbuttoning his shirt and directing a mischievous smile at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun nods again, pulling off his t shirt and pajamas, throwing them in a heap in a corner of the bathroom while Taeyong folds his clothes carefully. He looks appalled.

“Oh my god,” he says. “That’s not how you adult.”

“Will you stop adulting and come here, please?” Jaehyun says, stepping under the shower.

Taeyong laughs and joins Jaehyun in the cramped space, and he’s being pulled close, arms wrapping around his waist, lips on his neck. He sighs, rests his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder. The water is warm against his skin, and Jaehyun is warm too. He lets his eyes close and his tired body relax in Jaehyun’s arms. Let him do the work today, he decides.

But minutes pass, and he’s just being held under the soothing water, soft lips dragging over his skin. He opens his eyes, looks up at Jaehyun. “You’re not doing anything,” he says.

“You looked like you were having a good time,” Jaehyun says, chuckling. His voice softens. “And you looked so tired.”

Taeyong smiles before he can help himself. “So no shower sex?”

“Are you kidding? In this matchbox of a shower? We’ll end up with a dislocated something,” Jaehyun says and Taeyong laughs.

 

Taeyong is being pushed into Jaehyun’s bed, fresh out of the shower, naked but for the towel around his waist. “I’m all wet,” he says, on his back now. “Your sheets…”

“It won’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done to my sheets,” Jaehyun says with a smirk.

Jaehyun crawls into bed, pulls off the towel wrapped around Taeyong’s waist, presses his lips to Taeyong’s thighs. Taeyong’s knees are flexed, his thighs quivering as Jaehyun trails burning kisses over the smooth skin around his arousal, near his entrance.

“Jaehyun, do something,” he says, desperate. “Don’t tease tonight, please.”

Jaehyun chuckles against his sensitive skin, his hot breath a separate torture. He moves up a little, wraps his hand around Taeyong’s arousal, strokes languidly. Taeyong sighs in satisfaction. Hums when Jaehyun’s hot, wet mouth takes him in, fingers tangling in Jaehyun’s black hair, combing through. He watches himself disappearing past Jaehyun lips, stretched tight around him, and his day is suddenly a thousand times better.

That tongue will be the fucking death of him, he thinks, as it works wetly up his length. Jaehyun hollows his cheeks, bobs his head, making these wet little noises and Taeyong moans. He’s gloriously hard at this point, begging to come.

Jaehyun pulls off, his hand continuing to work the length, and Taeyong watches him raise two fingers to his own mouth and suck. Jaehyun looks up at him, and it’s fucking obscene, that beautiful face colored with lust, nestled between his thighs.

Taeyong is breathless when Jaehyun slides a finger into him, groans when another one slides in alongside the first. Jaehyun’s mouth is moving back to his length now. Takes him in slow, deep, hums around him, and Taeyong thinks he can’t handle it, but then Jaehyun’s fingers move inside him, press against his prostate, and Taeyong is left breathing in fragmented gasps.

Jaehyun releases his member only for a second, only to say “Fuck my mouth.”

Taeyong doesn’t know if it’s an invitation or a demand, but he obliges either way. He makes a frustrated sound, his hands tightening in Jaehyun’s hair, his hips bucking up into that tight, warm, pleasure. He’s probably being too rough, and Jaehyun gags a little, but then he’s taking it, so Taeyong gives it. A deep, deep pleasure tugs at his insides. Those fingers inside him are massaging his spot, and he feels heat pooling in his stomach and he loosens his grip on Jaehyun’s hair.

He’s going to come, “Fuck,” he breathes. “Jaehyun I’m going to come.”

Jaehyun doesn’t seem to care, choosing to swallow around Taeyong, and one long guttural moan is torn from Taeyong’s lips. Taeyong’s vision blurs, his shoulders winging, muscles clenching, and he’s coming into Jaehyun’s mouth. Jaehyun swallows everything, releasing him only after Taeyong has spilled everything he has.

Taeyong’s body goes limp, and Jaehyun chuckles, wiping his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to his hipbone. Taeyong slowly gathers up the muscle tone to raise a hand and caress Jaehyun’s hair.

“Come here,” he says.

Jaehyun crawls over Taeyong’s body and catches his lips in a lazy, wet kiss, tongues sliding sloppily. Taeyong can taste himself in Jaehyun’s mouth, and he smiles into the kiss. His senses are buzzing pleasantly, none of that stiff fatigue left in his bones.

His eyes are closed, a pleasant exhaustion washing over him, sleep drawing close, but he reaches for Jaehyun’s member. He knows the younger must be hard, leaking by now. He vaguely registers his outstretched hand being clasped in Jaehyun’s, being pulled up to his mouth, gentle kisses pressed to his knuckles.

He feels Jaehyun whispering into his ear. “Sleep,” he says. “You’re tired.”

“What about you?” he mumbles, already half asleep.

“Don’t worry about it. Just sleep.”

And Taeyong gives in.

Jaehyun throws the covers over Taeyong, takes care of himself in the bathroom, cleans up. He returns to his room, sits in his chair, lights a cigarette. He sits there for a long time, his eyes on Taeyong’s sleeping figure, thinking about how happy it makes him to see Taeyong sleeping in his bed.

When he can’t fight sleep anymore, he gives up, moves quietly, slowly, to lie down next to Taeyong. He breathes in, finds that Taeyong smells like Jaehyun’s shower gel, like his shampoo, and that makes him happy, too.

He falls asleep, his mind grappling with a thought: perhaps he’s in too deep.

 

Taeyong wakes up early, and he finds himself in Jaehyun’s embrace. It’s safe, a tangle of limbs, warm breath on his skin, and Taeyong should really just nuzzle into the younger’s warmth and go back to sleep. For a split second, he’s happy, toying with the thought, but Taeyong is Taeyong, and he feels a rush of panic in the pit of his stomach. Fuck, he thinks. Fuckfuckfuck.

He’s never stayed over before. And they didn’t even have sex. Jaehyun took care of him last night, held him, made him come, and hadn’t demanded anything in return. Just took care of him, made him feel better. _Couple_ bullshit. Fuck.

He slips out of Jaehyun’s arms quietly, the panic building to a paralyzing fear, gets dressed, and lets himself out.

It’s 4 am, still dark out. Taeyong runs.

 

Three days have passed since Jaehyun woke up to an empty bed. Jaehyun calls him. Taeyong doesn’t answer. Jaehyun waits. He doesn’t call back. So he leaves a text.

Can we meet tonight?

The night comes and goes, it’s the next morning, and still nothing. Jaehyun doesn’t know if he should be irritated or worried. He leaves another text.

Everything okay?

Silence.

He thinks he knows what happened. That night, with Taeyong inside him, he felt it, that something was shifting. Slowly teetering on the edge of a cliff, the collapse of a carefully built lie. He felt it, he knows, it has stopped being about sex. It’s about them now, the two of them and what they mean to each other. And he knows Taeyong felt it too, the last time they met. And he knows its scares him.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

Jaehyun decides to let it slide for a couple of days. And then on the fourth night, it’s two am, he’s sitting in his room, working on an illustration for a college project, and he hears the bell ringing. He feels his heart leap into his throat. He stands slowly, and the bell rings again, impatient, followed by knocking.

“I’m coming,” he calls out, making his way to the door.

The minute he opens the door, Taeyong is falling into his arms, kissing him, the smell of liquor strong on his breath. Jaehyun makes a muffled sound of surprise, and he tries to pull away, but Taeyong is persistent, and stronger than he looks.

“Slow down,” he tries to say, but Taeyong swallows his words.

Jaehyun closes the door, presses Taeyong against it, pins him there by the shoulders, and breaks the kiss.

“Stop,” he says decisively.  “Where have you been?”

Taeyong looks at him with hazy eyes. “Fucking other men,” he says. “One for every night I wasn’t with you. Is that a problem?”

Jaehyun can’t ignore the twist of disillusionment in his gut. “No,” he says. He knows Taeyong never promised exclusivity, and Jaehyun himself had expressly said he could do whatever he wants with his time. “But you could have texted or called. I was getting worried.”

“Worried about me? That’s so sweet. Does little Jaehyunnie have a crush?” Taeyong slurs. In the pause that follows, he knows he’s hurt Jaehyun.

“You’re drunk,” Jaehyun replies softly. Neither confirmation nor denial.

Taeyong laughs. He concurs. “So what?” he says.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath. “What are you trying to do, Taeyong?”

“I’m trying to leave.”

“Then fucking leave. Why did you come back here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then why did you want to leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jaehyun says, voice low. There’s a long pause. Jaehyun tries again. “What went wrong? Between you and me?”

Taeyong swallows, the drunken cocky smile wiped from his face. “That’s just it. There is no you. There’s only me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just me. And I can’t do this. I don’t know how,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

“Do what?”

“Be with you.”

Jaehyun stops short, his chest constricting. “Do you want to be with me?”

Taeyong looks at him for a long moment. “I can’t,” he says, resolute. Neither confirmation nor denial.

Jaehyun’s grip on Taeyong’s shoulders loosens. His hands fall away from the beautiful man leaning against his front door.

“Do you want to keep doing what we’ve been doing?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “It hurts.”

“I know.”

Taeyong waits, and some of the haze clears from his head. This is really happening.

“I’ll leave then,” he says.

Jaehyun nods, swallowing down the tightness in his throat. He doesn’t understand what’s holding Taeyong back, what he’s afraid of, doesn’t know why they can’t be together if both of them want it. But he knows that he can’t keep lying to himself and being physically intimate with Taeyong and holding his feelings down, when really he’s falling hard. He presses a quick kiss to Taeyong’s cheek.

“Go,” he says.

Taeyong stares at him. This is really happening. He forces himself to stand straight and he turns to leave. He stops with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “This was a bad way to do it. I didn’t mean to, I’m just… drunk.”

He feels arms wrapping around him, a strong chest pressed against his back. His free arm wraps around himself, over Jaehyun’s, and for a second he wants to take it all back. He doesn’t. “I’ll talk to you again when I’m sober,” he says.

Jaehyun nods, releases him.

Taeyong leaves. Gets into a cab and drives away from that tiny apartment. Away from the tidy little room with walls covered in posters and Jaehyun’s own beautiful drawings, from the bed that was more familiar than his own, from the boy that made him breathless.

He doesn’t call Jaehyun again in the morning.

 

After Jaehyun, Taeyong thinks he’s forgotten how to do it. How to get strangers to go home with him. But then he smiles at someone at the bar, and he smiles back and buys him a drink, and Taeyong realizes it’s like riding a bike. You never forget.

Taeyong thinks about Jaehyun. About how they met, about the first night they spent together. He should have left it there, he thinks. Everything that followed was just something he made up to hurt himself. It’s over now, he thinks. Nothing before, nothing after, just an isolated thing of his own creation. Just a part of a whole. A whole he can never find.

 

He’s being pushed to his knees, a stranger’s cock forced into his mouth. It’s too big to take, and he gags, but the stranger thrusts in and Taeyong has tears in his eyes. He takes it, and he does his job.

He’s being fucked in the backseat of a car, mechanical movements in that cramped space, someone whose name he doesn’t remember is kissing him. Taeyong reciprocates stiffly. He comes, and it’s a rush of pleasure, and he lets himself drown in it with his eyes closed, shutting the stranger out. For a moment he isn’t lonely.

He’s on his hands and knees in some strange bed, his hair being pulled till his neck stretches painfully, and he’s being fucked hard and fast and it hurts, but Taeyong lets it happen. The man bends down and whispers in his ear, come for me, baby, and Taeyong laughs. For you? He thinks. There is no you, only me.

He does this for months. Every weekend it’s someone new. None of them feel like Jaehyun. None of these strangers make him chase his orgasm the way Jaehyun did, none of those orgasms shake him to the bone and leave him gasping, warm and sated for the rest of the night. None of those strangers speak to him afterwards, about everything in the world, or make him laugh, and none of them knows a damned thing about him. Some faceless pleasure, some nameless gratification to save him from loneliness for a few hours, and then they’re out of his life forever.

It’s good, he thinks. This is what his life is supposed to be like. Safe in his apartment, by himself, with his work and his books and his perfect coffee. Occasional plans with friends. A fragile equilibrium. Calm. Orderly.

Empty.

 

After Taeyong, Jaehyun is all fucked up. He misses Taeyong. Physically, he misses him. It’s the sudden withdrawal of his touch, after months of being wrapped up in him. His bed feels empty. Every other way, he misses him. He misses watching him wander around the room half naked, looking at his walls and everything on it, he misses the way he’d praise Jaehyun’s work honestly, sharing warmth and cigarettes in bed, he misses unravelling Taeyong. His nights feel empty.

He’s a mess for over a month. He still manages to fulfill his responsibilities, goes to class, does his work. Even lands an internship for the winter. But he mopes in his room most evenings, can’t be bothered to meet his friends, can’t sleep because his bed isn’t warm enough.

He finally goes out only when Ten and Doyoung barge into his room and force him to.

It’s a year before he finally asks someone out. A pretty girl. A freshman. She’s bright and focused, and she makes him laugh. And she likes him. He knows. She practically instructs him to ask her out, and Jaehyun is okay with that, because she seems fun, and he needs to move on.

When they have sex, it’s always gentle and slow. Nothing like what he’s used to. And sometimes when they’re lying in bed together afterwards, and his hands are stroking her bare skin, his mind betrays him and he’s thinking about Taeyong. She always pokes his cheek and pulls him back to her.

“Where are you?” she always asks.

And Jaehyun always shakes his head with a smile and kisses her deeply, and she forgets all about it.

They make it five months. She tells him something’s not working, and she can’t put her finger on it, and Jaehyun agrees. They end it.

Jaehyun is alone.

 

Two years pass. Taeyong has stopped sleeping around because it stopped working. He found himself feeling more empty than full, and his life began to spiral downward, to slip away from him. For a time there, he lost sight of himself. Began to feel unreal. Night after night of coming home feeling used and inconsequential, smelling like sex and strangers, and Taeyong began to think sometimes, he could see right through himself. 

He doesn't know how, or what strength he held on to, but he just managed to pull it back together, throwing himself into work, returning to routine.

It has paid off. He’s recently been promoted at work.

He keeps himself busy.

 

It’s when Taeyong is on his couch with a cup of coffee, flipping through a magazine that he sees it. That familiar style, the spidery scrawl of Jaehyun’s signature. His fingers ghost over the half page illustration, accompanying an article about time management or something like that. He’s gotten even better, he thinks, and there’s a small, proud smile on his face.

There must be more, he thinks. He must have started with something smaller. He wants to see.

He opens up his laptop, googles Jung Jaehyun, and there he is. He has a blog, with all his freelance work on it. Taeyong hesitates for a second, but then he can’t fight the curiosity and he clicks.

He’s been doing quite well for himself. Quite a few projects. A personal series of illustrations, too. Taeyong bites his lip, feeling a little bit pathetic, and clicks, and it takes his breath away.

There’s one with a pale haired little boy sitting on a mountain of books, one with the same boy lying on his back in a grassy field, blissful smile on his face. And then there’s another, the light haired boy with another black haired boy, holding hands and running through a forest where the trees dripped honey and grew apples and strawberries and pizza and candy and everything illogical and silly and amazing about childhood.

It’s innocent. Simple. Honest. And Taeyong covers his mouth with a trembling hand.

Simple. Taeyong’s dad left years ago. Taeyong’s mom didn’t know how to raise two children by herself and she left them with their grandmother.

Honest. Taeyong is a stranger to emotional intimacy. He's fucking terrified of being abandoned again.

Simple. He loved Jaehyun. _Loves_ Jaehyun.

Honest. He pushed him away, distanced himself from everything he felt, cut it out and threw it away, like he always does, and now parts of him are missing.

And now, sitting there in his empty apartment, he steels himself, dares himself to look at his life. Look at all those missing parts, all the empty, meaningless bullshit he filled it with. He feels, whole heartedly, and his body trembles with the sheer weight of everything in his chest. He feels, whole.

Taeyong cries. For the first time in years, he cries.

 

Jaehyun wakes up at one fifteen to the sound of his phone ringing. He fumbles blindly for it, answers without even looking at the screen.

“Hello?” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

There’s no reply. “Hello?” he says again. Silence.

He pulls the phone from his ear to look at the number on the screen. And there’s a name. One he hasn’t seen in over two years. Lee Taeyong. His heart stops. He brings the phone back to his ear.

“Taeyong?” he whispers.

There’s something that sounds like a sob on the other end.

Jaehyun sits up hurriedly, wide awake now. “Taeyong…” he breathes. “Are you okay?”

“I saw your drawings,” Taeyong says, his voice choked. “They’re beautiful.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes and smiles. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I’m glad you like them.”

There’s a long pause. Jaehyun waits for Taeyong to say something.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. _For leaving_.

Jaehyun knows what he means. “I’m sorry, too,” Jaehyun replies. _For letting you._

“Were you sleeping?” Taeyong says, his voice evening out a little.

“No,” Jaehyun says, shifting the phone to his other ear.

“I was just… have dinner with me tomorrow?” Taeyong says, without ceremony.

Jaehyun lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’d love to,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Taeyong is smiling, he knows he’s smiling, he can hear it even in the static on his phone.

“Great,” Taeyong says. “How does eight sound? My place?”

“That sounds great.”

“Okay, I’ll text you the address. Now go back to sleep,” he says, and there’s a tenderness in his voice that Jaehyun remembers from the last time they had sex.

“I told you, I wasn’t sleeping,” he says. He wants to hear Taeyong’s voice for a little while longer.

“Yeah, and you’re a shit liar.”

Jaehyun laughs. He missed Taeyong. He missed this.

“Taeyong?” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for finally calling me.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “Good night, Jaehyun.”

“Good night, Taeyong.”

Jaehyun falls asleep with a smile on his face, and his mind grapples with a thought: maybe he’s still in love with Taeyong.


	4. Extra

Jaehyun looks different now. More grown up. Angles in his face where Taeyong remembers soft curves. The door is open, and Jaehyun is standing outside, and Taeyong forgets he needs to speak. He just stands there, staring, feeling like something from a dream just fell into reality.

Jaehyun speaks first. “Your hair…” he says, amazed.

Taeyong raises his hand to hair in confusion, and then he remembers that Jaehyun hasn’t seen him like this. His hair was still white when he left him. It’s completely black now.

Taeyong laughs. “Boring, isn’t it?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “You’re still so beautiful,” he says breathlessly. Taeyong smiles, and it’s radiant, and he reaches out for Jaehyun and tugs at his jacket.

“Come inside, fucking cheeseball,” he mumbles, and Jaehyun laughs and steps over the threshold and into his carefully built life. Arms wrap around Taeyong, draw him close, and his hands are still clutching Jaehyun’s jacket. Jaehyun’s mouth finds his, and they kiss, delicately, softly, a relic of the past, a promise of the future.

When they break the kiss, Taeyong takes Jaehyun’s hand, tugs. “Come on, food’s getting cold,” he says.

 

Dinner is quiet. A little awkward. They’ve grown, and changed, and there are sharp angles where they remember soft curves, and it’s a little difficult to fit like they used to. But it’s still comfortable. It’s still worth working on.

After dinner they sit together on Taeyong’s balcony on a long wooden bench, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, and they loosen up. Alcohol runs warm in their veins and brings down their defenses. Their laughter is more open, their words more honest. It begins to feel like those nights they’d spent talking, about their lives so far, about their separate futures. All the time they wasted without each other. They don’t even know how or when they lean into each other, but their mouths meet, and this time their lips part, it’s deep, tongues dancing together, hands everywhere.

Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s beer from his hand and sets it down, and then he pulls Taeyong into his lap. Taeyong sighs into the kiss, straddling Jaehyun, remembering his hold. Jaehyun runs his hands down Taeyong’s back, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt before slipping under and he reels from the feeling of Taeyong’s warm, smooth skin under his fingertips. When he pulls his mind back together, he realizes that Taeyong isn’t kissing him anymore.

He opens his eyes, and his heart sinks when he sees how distraught Taeyong looks.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“You need to know something,” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun’s hands settle on his hips, stroking, soothing.

“I slept around. After you. A lot.” He swallows. “For a couple of months, it was someone new every week, sometimes two times in one week. I stopped, after that, but… it wasn’t… It really fucked me up.”

Jaehyun feels something twist in his stomach, the thought of strangers touching Taeyong, _fucking_ Taeyong. So many strangers. It hurts him. But he looks at Taeyong, and there are tears gathering in his eyes, and he thinks fuck, it hurts Taeyong so much more.

“I felt like I was just something to fuck, for one night. I mean I know I did it to myself, and I’ve tried to turn things around since then,” he says, fighting back tears. “But I’m not… I mean, I don’t think, I don’t want to fuck this up. I want to do it right, with you. I don’t want this to be about sex… but that doesn’t mean…”

Jaehyun’s heart swells, and his chest constricts and he can’t breathe. He cups his face. Kisses him gently. “I’ll wait,” he says softly. “Don’t look like that. I’m here now, and I’ll wait for as long as you want.”

Taeyong tries to breathe calmly but there’s a sob at the back of his throat, and he lets it out. Jaehyun holds him, pulls him close, whispers soft, sweet things into his skin until Taeyong can breathe again.

Jaehyun stays the night. They don’t do anything but kiss.

 

They take it slow. Dinner dates and lunch dates, movies, coffee breaks. Sometimes Jaehyun would just bring his work stuff over to Taeyong’s place and set up on the living room floor and work for hours while Taeyong sits on the sofa and looks through thick volumes and manuscripts with a merciless red pen, scribbling notes, making corrections. They each liked the other’s presence.

They kiss, and sometimes it’s innocent little pecks, sometimes it’s heavy and laced with want. But Taeyong isn’t ready yet.

 

Taeyong meets Jaehyun’s friends. He’s anxious. Never been the kind of guy who’s comfortable with new people, let alone groups of new people. He doesn’t know how much they’ve heard about him.

Ten, Johnny, Mark. Ten and Johnny are loud and raucous. Mark seems like the awkward baby of the group, the one that always gets shit, but is somehow also the one they all love the most. Jaehyun fits in quietly as the peacemaker, the gentle spirit that keeps them together.

Taeyong is a little awkward for the first few minutes. He’s so much older than them. But Jaehyun’s hand is big and warm and comforting on his knee, their ceaseless banter and attention to his comfort pull him in, and before long he’s laughing with them. Not really joining the conversation, but he’s not uncomfortable.

Sometime that night, Ten speaks to him alone. “So you’re him, then?” he says. “The one that got away?”

Taeyong smiles, not really knowing what to say, but Ten continues. “I’m glad for him. Stick around. He’s happy again.”

Taeyong just smiles wider and nods.

 

 

 Jaehyun enters Taeyong’s apartment and finds it in an uncharacteristic state of disarray. An old chestnut desk which used to stand in a corner now stands haphazardly in the middle of the hall. All the contents of it drawers seem to have been removed, placed on the coffee table. Taeyong’s voice calls from the kitchen, and then Taeyong himself appears at the kitchen door with a glass of water.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” Jaehyun replies. “What happened here?”

“I was trying to move this desk. But it’s fucking heavy and I got lazy so I took a break.”

Jaehyun chuckles, puts his bag down on the couch. “Where do you want it?” he says.

“Well now that you’re here, you decide. Where do you want it?”

“What?”

“It’s yours now. I cleared it out so you’ll have a place to work,” he says. “There’s not enough light in that corner so I thought…”

Jaehyun has no idea what he says after that, because Taeyong is carving out space for him, and Jaehyun’s ears are ringing and his chest is tight and he’s just happy. He steps closer to Taeyong, and the other is still speaking when he wraps an arm around his waist, pulls him close and kisses him. Taeyong makes a surprised sound, but Jaehyun keeps kissing him, and Taeyong kisses him back. They pull away, and Taeyong is amused. “Okay?” he says, wondering what that was all about, but Jaehyun doesn’t offer any explanations.

He releases Taeyong and steps back. “I think there should be fine,” Jaehyun says, pointing to a space by the window. “Come on, help me out.”

 

Jaehyun and Taeyong are sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table, sorting through all the junk that had been cleared from the desk drawers. Jaehyun finds a stack of photographs, and he gets distracted, sitting back, looking at them.

“Look,” he says, and Taeyong leans back and looks over.

“Shit I was wondering where I’d put those,” Taeyong says, curling into Jaehyun’s side. Jaehyun is curious, about Taeyong’s past, his childhood, and he looks up at Taeyong and says “Can I see?”

Taeyong nods. “Sure,” he says.

The pictures are mostly of Taeyong’s sister and his grandmother and a beautiful chocolate Labrador. There’s only one with his parents in it, and there, Taeyong is just a tiny kid. And then there’s one that almost makes him choke.

Taeyong standing with his friends, probably 15 or 16 years old, thin, brown hair falling into his face, wearing a blue and white uniform, smiling happily. No way, he thinks. No fucking way. Jaehyun picks it up, looks closer, and he laughs incredulously. Holy shit, he thinks. It’s him.

“Hey, I know I look weird but it’s not that bad…” Taeyong mumbles.

Jaehyun turns to him with the photograph in his hand. He doesn’t seem to have heard what Taeyong said. “You want to hear something crazy?” he says.

“Always,” Taeyong replies.

“I think we met once, when I was in middle school. In a park, in Yonhi-dong? There was a cat, remember?”

 

_Jaehyun cuts through an old park, it’s hot, and he wants to get home faster. He’s walking fast, but then he sees something and he stops. There’s a boy, maybe 15, thin, brown haired, bangs too long, wearing a blue and white uniform, sitting cross legged on the grass. There’s a beautiful grey and white stray cat in his lap, and the boy is feeding it treats, petting it._

_Jaehyun walks closer, hesitant, and the boy looks up at him. Jaehyun freezes. “Can I play with it?” he manages to say. The boy nods, beckons. Jaehyun is a little taken aback at how pretty the older boy is, but he pushes on and sits by him. He can’t bring himself to say a word, but he reaches out and scratches the little cat behind the ears and it purrs in satisfaction. The brown haired boy laughs, and it’s the prettiest sound Jaehyun has heard in his ten years of existence._

_“Look, she likes you,” he says._

_Jaehyun realizes he’s been smiling dumbly at him for quite a while now, and quickly adjusts his expression. The boy picks the cat up and puts her in Jaehyun’s lap._

_“I have to go now,” he says, getting to his feet. He throws Jaehyun one radiant smile, hands him the treats and he walks away._

_It’s a full ten minutes wondering if he’s in love before Jaehyun realizes he hasn’t asked for the boy’s name. He doesn’t even recognize the uniform from any of the schools in his area. How is he ever going to see him again?_

 

Taeyong gawps. He looks like he’s trying to remember something, and then realization lights up behind his eyes. He points at Jaehyun. “Buzzcut?” he asks.

Jaehyun laughs and nods. “You remember,” he says, smiling.

“I remember, because that was the only time I visited mum in Yonhi-dong. And then I went to the park and there was this awkward kid… Holy fucking shit, puberty really did a number on you,” Taeyong says, amazed. And then he pauses. “I can’t believe you remembered me.”

“You were so pretty, I thought I was in love with you. For a couple of weeks, at least.”

Taeyong can’t stop laughing. “This is like a bad Mills and Boon romance. So cheesy.”

“Very Cheetos, yes.”

“Cheesier.”

“Pizza?”

“A little more.”

“Fondue.”

“That works, yes.”

 

Jaehyun spends nights often. Somehow a routine builds itself. He comes over before Taeyong returns from work, cooks something light for the two of them, and by then Taeyong usually returns and they eat together. And then he sits at his desk by the window and begins to work while Taeyong showers and changes, then settles down on the living room couch to read. A couple of hours pass, and Taeyong closes his book, comes by, kisses him goodnight, and goes to bed. He does his best work at night, so even hours after Taeyong has fallen asleep, when the whole apartment is dark, Jaehyun works away at his new desk, a single bright table lamp keeping him in a bubble of illumination.

 

Somewhere along the way, Taeyong starts writing. He writes with discipline, an hour at least, every day. He doesn’t show any of it to Jaehyun, and Jaehyun doesn’t push. He’s writing, and he’s happy with his work, that’s all that matters.

 

Somewhere along the way, Jaehyun learns how to make Taeyong’s coffee just right. One Sunday morning, he presents it to Taeyong with great ceremony. He waits with bated breath while Taeyong breathes in the aroma, takes a sip, face completely impassive for a few seconds, and then he looks over at Jaehyun and nods. A smile breaks out on Jaehyun’s face, and his eyes crinkle and his dimples show, like he’s actually achieved something of importance, and Taeyong’s heart warms. He reaches out and kisses him, buries his face in Jaehyun’s neck, and says “I love you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun wraps his arms tight around Taeyong. “If coffee was all it took, I would have done this months ago,” he says.

“Very funny,” Taeyong retorts, and Jaehyun laughs, presses a kiss to his hair.

“I love you, too.”

 

It’s late, and Jaehyun has had hours of futile attempts at getting his work done. He gives up, deciding to just go to bed and try again the next day.

In Taeyong’s room, he undresses quickly and quietly and joins Taeyong under the covers. The older man stirs, turns to face him, wraps his arms around Jaehyun and kisses him. Jaehyun smiles, kisses him deeper.

Taeyong hums, breaks the kiss, biting down lightly on Jaehyun’s skin, arms tightening around his torso. Jaehyun tenses. He remembers this. He knows this touch.

“Taeyong?” he says, unsure.

“I want you,” Taeyong replies, voice barely above a whisper.

Jaehyun groans, and his lips are caught again in a sensual kiss. “Fuck,” he breathes, cupping Taeyong’s face. “Are you sure?”

Taeyong nods, and Jaehyun thinks he might die.

 

Jaehyun is on him now, and they're both entirely naked. He's kissing Taeyong's skin with something nearing devotion and Taeyong watches, breathless. He’s insanely aroused, body thrumming, begging for Jaehyun. Jaehyun has prepared him already, patiently, gently, and now he’s crawling over Taeyong, peppering his chest with soft kisses. Taeyong wraps his arms around Jaehyun, pulls him down on top of him, and he’s happy with the warmth of Jaehyun’s skin on his.

Jaehyun presses his forehead to Taeyong’s, eyes closed, and his mouth dips lower, lips dragging softly over Taeyong’s. Not really a kiss, just some sort of intimacy. He reaches down, guides himself to Taeyong’s entrance, presses the head to that moist warmth, drags his cock over it. Taeyong exhales shakily. Jaehyun does it again, his length sliding over Taeyong’s entrance, again, and again, till Taeyong is quivering under him.

“Jaehyun, please,” he breathes, eyes closed, lips parted, face flushed.

 Jaehyun gives in, pushes, and Taeyong feels the breach, in every part of his body, and his eyes snap open. Jaehyun straightens up, to grip Taeyong’s hips, to guide himself in better, and Taeyong’s eyes follow him, gaze trailing down, down his beautiful, lean, muscled body, down to his cock. It’s sinking into him slowly, inches disappearing, and it’s too much for Taeyong to take.

They’re both breathing hard by the time Jaehyun bottoms out, minds scrambled. Jaehyun feels Taeyong relaxing around him, and he needs more, _needs more_. He pulls his hips back, thrusts in. Taeyong keens, and it’s a sound Jaehyun knows, remembers, so familiar to him, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

Jaehyun sets his pace, slow, deep, fluid thrusts, and Taeyong watches the muscles in Jaehyun’s abdomen clenching with every roll of his hips. He reaches out to touch him, palm flat against his skin, he runs his hands over Jaehyun’s sides, over his chest, over those tight nipples, and Jaehyun gasps. He can’t focus, the way Taeyong is tightening around him, the way he’s pampering him with his touch, can’t keep himself together, not when he’s waited so fucking long to feel this again.

He bites down on his lip, shifts a little, and he’s reaching deeper inside, touching something that makes Taeyong writhe and tremble. He keeps at it, sinking into Taeyong’s body, pulling him apart at the seams. Taeyong wants more, he wants him closer, wants with a simmering fever. He wraps his legs around Jaehyun’s torso, and Jaehyun falls forward, arms caging Taeyong’s body.

“Kiss me,” Taeyong says, and Jaehyun can’t say no. He can never say no to those beautiful eyes. Their lips meet, no semblance of control left, and Taeyong’s tongue is in Jaehyun’s mouth, claiming him, owning him.

They break the kiss only when they can’t anymore, and Jaehyun buries his face in the side of Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong turns his head, whispers hotly into Jaehyun’s ear.

“I missed you, I missed this,” he says breathlessly. “I missed you inside me, Jaehyun, God, you feel _so fucking good_.”

Jaehyun moans, uninhibited, mouthing against Taeyong’s neck. They’re both chasing their orgasms now, moving faster, harder, deeper. Taeyong’s hand slips into the space between their bodies, fingers wrapping tight around himself, and he strokes himself roughly. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, tingling in his toes, in his stomach, in his chest.

“Jaehyun,” he breathes, his free hand running down his back. “Please, Jaehyun…”

He’s moaning incoherently, just Jaehyun, more, more, please, and Jaehyun is helplessly pushing into his body, pushing him to the edge. But Jaehyun is wound too tight, he’s waited too long for this to happen, and he unravels, comes inside Taeyong with a guttural moan. His mind has slipped away from him, and all that’s left is Taeyong.

Taeyong, stroking himself even faster, pleasure pulling tighter and tighter and then he’s over the edge. Surrounded by Jaehyun’s warmth, his scent, his love, Taeyong allows himself to come, panting, shuddering. His back arches, his toes curl, a wave of pleasure washing over him and he swears it feels like vindication, like healing.

Jaehyun raises himself a little and finds Taeyong’s mouth again, the other's free hand threading through his hair. One sensual exchange, and then Jaehyun whispers “I love you.”

Taeyong smiles, and Jaehyun thinks he’s beautiful, so, so beautiful, when he whispers it back. 

 

In time, Jaehyun moves in. Taeyong helps him with his boxes and he realizes Jaehyun really doesn't have much stuff, practical, adult, stuff. It all fits into the trunk and backseat of Taeyong's car. And when they start unpacking, back at Taeyong's place,Taeyong finds that all the posters Jaehyun has retrieved from his bedroom walls fill half a box. He laughs. How characteristically Jaehyun he thinks.

They unpack the posters too, and Jaehyun says "I've been meaning to ask, can I put those up in the bedroom?"

Taeyong chuckles. "You can do anything you want," he says. But then he pauses like he's remembered something, picks up the stack of posters, looks through, picks one up and says "Except this. This is not okay."

Jaehyun looks heartbroken. "But that's my favorite Grateful Dead poster."

"I'm sorry Jae, but I do not want that psychedelic pedo bear bullshit in our house," he says. "It freaks me the fuck out..."

Jaehyun finds himself floating somewhere above, near the ceiling of that refined living room with half opened boxes and Jaehyun's stuff all over. He finds himself beaming with happiness. He has no idea what Taeyong is saying, but he reaches out helplessly, pulls him close by the nape of his neck and he presses his lips to Taeyong's. It's that same surprised sound again, and Jaehyun swallows it, and soon Taeyong is kissing him back. Jaehyun breaks the kiss.

"Fine, no Grateful Dead," Jaehyun says.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Taeyong asks.

"You said our."

"What?"

"Our house, you said our."

Taeyong looks at him with a stupid smile on his face. He tries to fight it and look unimpressed but he's failing.

"You're so fucking cheesy."

"Fondue?"

"Fondue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lalala so much fluff. This story should have ended at the previous chapter but I really wanted to write some happy Jaeyong, so there's an extra chapter lol.   
> Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it :)


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